She Destroys With Another: The Sequel
by RuthlessStyleFreak
Summary: Sequel to "She Destroys With Another" I'd suggest reading the first story first, or else you'll have no idea what's happening. Review! Chapter Three is FINALLY Up! Hoo-Rah!
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer-As every other chapter of every other one of my stories, I don't own a thing.  The only things that I _do _own are my ideas, my mind, and my computer. 

A/N-This is the sequel to my other story She Destroys with Another, so if you haven't read _that, _I can guarantee that you will not understand this story.  This is just a warning:  If you haven't read the prologue to this, you should do so.

**Chapter One**

**Washington**Psychiatric Hospital********

**Patient Information:**

**Number: **SM015

**Name: **Keller, Rachel B.

**DOB: **6/15/76

**Date Registered: **11/08/03

***Found in car on side of road in ****Illinois******

**Problem: **Patient never sleeps

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Rachel Keller stared up at the blinding-white ceiling; the black circles under her eyes were so vivid that they appeared to be a dark blue.  "Aiden," she mumbled, "don't worry baby, I'll find you."

Doctor Murphy watched Rachel through the observation glass and listened to what she was saying.  "'Aiden,'" he repeated, scribbling the name down in a small, yellow notebook.  "Have we discovered who this Aiden she keeps referring to is?"

Dr. Murphy's colleague, Dr. Emerson, looked away from Rachel to respond.  "Yes.  Ms. Keller's sister, Ruth, told us that Aiden was her son, but no one knows where his whereabouts are at this time."

"Have we assembled a search team and notified the police about his being missing?"

"Yes we have.  So far, there have been only a few very . . . how do I put this? . . . _odd _results."

Dr. Murphy looked up from his notebook and raised his eyebrow.  "'_Odd'?" he repeated.  "How do you mean?"_

"Well, about a week ago, there was a death of a teenage boy.  The strange part about the teenager's death was that there was no act of violence; the boy's heart simply stopped, and apparently his face was . . . unnaturally deformed.

"Now, there was a girl with the boy when he died.  She was found in the corner of a closet; she was absolutely terrified, and when she was found, she was mumbling something, and whenever she was questioned, she always responded the same way."

"And what way is that?" asked Dr. Murphy, beginning to believe that this story was simply some rumor that his co-worker heard about.

"'They never sleep.  They'll never stop.  SM . . . AK . . .' And then, she'd go into a horrible shock and begin screaming."

Dr. Murphy shook his head.  "Lou, I don't know where you got this story from, but it sounds a little far-fetched.  Besides, _how does this relate to that Aiden kid?"_

"Aiden Keller; 'AK,'" replied Dr. Emerson, matter-of-factly.  "Now this story does seem a little strange, but it does relate Ms. Rachel Keller and AK.  Every day, when I go in to talk to her, she always says 'They never sleep, so I'll never sleep.  Samara has him.  I have to find him.  This is out on a limb, of course, but that 'S' in the 'SM' _could_ stand for Samara as in _Samara Morgan_ from the Morgan ranches all those years ago."

Dr. Murphy shook his head in pity at his colleague, smiling.  Dr. Emerson was still so young, so full of energy.  He could be conned into believing anything.  

A scream broke through the air as Dr. Murphy began to turn away from the observation window.  He turned back around to find Rachel curled up in a ball in the corner of the room.  "This is the forth time this month," he groaned, unlocking the door to Rachel's room and rushing across the floor to her side.

He kneeled down next to her.  "Rachel, are you okay?  What's wrong?"

Rachel did not look at him, but pulled her knees even closer to her chest.  "It's happening again . . ."  

"What is?"

"The little girl . . . Aiden . . ."

Dr. Murphy felt a wave of confusion surge through his stomach.  He had never asked Rachel what had been wrong the past three times she had began screaming, and now he felt that he needed to know.  "What about them?"

"The tape . . . a woman watched it . . . seven days today . . . they're coming . . ."

"Who's coming?"

"Samara and Aiden; they're coming . . . Dr. Murphy, please make this stop!"  Rachel burst into tears and collapsed on the floor on her right side before screaming once again.

"Rachel, I can't help you unless you tell me what to do."  Dr. Murphy looked down helplessly at the woman on the floor, who was shrieking in horror.

Rachel acted as if she did not hear him.  "They . . . they . . ."  Her breathing slowed, and she regained calmness.  "They're done," she said, breathlessly.  "The woman is dead."

_Later That Day . . ._

"She said that Samara and Aiden _killed a woman?!" asked Dr. Emerson, loudly.  _

"Shh!  Yes, and I think that you may be right about her and the relations to the past three deaths," replied Dr. Murphy.

"Frank, you don't know that.  Besides, I was just kidding around.  That Samara girl is just a rumor.  There's no need to get all worked up about it."

"Oh no?  Look at what is on the news."  Dr. Murphy picked up a remote and changed to channel three, where a Cindy Cashton was reporting in an apartment.

"This breaking news story occurred about three hours ago, police believe.  A woman was killed in her bedroom this very day.  There were no witnesses, except for a young couple next door who heard some strange noises through the walls.  They described the noises as 'static, water, and a small yell of pain.'  They did not want to interfere, so they did not notify police until hours later, when the woman did not show up at their apartment, as they had planned.

"While the cause of death is unknown, the police say that the body appeared to have been severely burned, although there are no burn marks on the body.  This is the forth of unusual deaths around the country.  Similar cases arouse a few months prior, such as a Noah Clay, as well as a few high school students whose parents would like them to remain nameless.  The causes of death are all similar: their hearts seemed to have simply stopped.  We will keep you updated as we receive more information.  This is Cindy Cashton reporting, Channel 3 News, Washington."

Dr. Murphy turned off the television and turned around to face Dr. Emerson, who was staring at the television, his mouth agape.  "Do you really think that they're connected to Rachel?"

"I really don't know, Lou.  Maybe we should try to talk to Rachel about it."

Dr. Murphy and Dr. Emerson stood up from their table and walked towards Rachel's room.  They looked through the observation window.  Rachel was sitting on her bed, staring at the ceiling with her blood-shot eyes.  From what the doctors could see, her lips were moving, as if she was praying, or simply talking to herself.

Dr. Murphy unlocked the door and entered the room.  He sat on the bed beside Rachel.  She slowly turned her head to look at him.  

"Rachel, we have some questions for you, is that okay with you?" Dr. Murphy asked.

Rachel stared at him, a lost look in her eyes, for a few seconds, before nodding her head slowly.  "Okay," began Dr. Murphy, taking a quick glance at Dr. Emerson, who was watching them through the glass.  "Now, you know that woman that you said died earlier today?  How did you know that she had died?"

Rachel opened her mouth, but closed it almost immediately.  She opened her mouth again, emitting a small whimper.  "She showed me . . . like Rebecca told me."

"Who's Rebecca?"

"She's-she's a girl who . . . who was with my niece, Katie . . . the night Samara killed her."

"Samara killed her, too?"

"Y-yes.  Because Katie watched the tape-that's why she killed her.  She wanted to be heard.  Noah died because I was wrong.  Aiden's gone because I was wrong.  M-my fault."  Rachel arose from the bed.  "IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" she shrieked, beginning to tear away at her hair.  "AIDEN, COME BACK!  P-please, come back . . . I'm so sorry." 

Dr. Murphy watched as Rachel dissolved into tears, and began to wrench at her hair, screaming aloud, not from pain, but from utter melancholy.  "M-my fault . . . this is my entire fault.  I-I shouldn't be here.  I should be out there, looking for my son!"  She spun around, and ran at Dr. Murphy.  As she threw her arms around his torso, Rachel began to hiccup.  "Dr. Murphy, please, let me leave this place.  I have to find my son.  I don't care if I die; I just _have_ to see him again."  She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear erupting and gliding down her face.  "Please," she whispered.  "Let me go."

Dr. Murphy, who had remained silent while Rachel had been thrashing about, took a deep breath.  "Rachel," he began, pushing her away from him and holding her by her shoulders.  "I _can't _just let you leave.  You're under medication and you need to be observed so that we can figure out what's wrong with you."

Rachel jerked away from Dr. Murphy's grasp.  "Don't speak to me like a _child, Dr. Murphy.  I don't 'need to be observed.'  You can easily find another test subject for your college students to use as an essay thesis.  I'm not insane; I'm just a good mother."_

"Rachel," breathed Dr. Murphy, attempting to keep his temper.  "We have many police officers looking for your son, and I would appreciate not being talked to in that fashion by a patient.  We're just trying to help you!"

"'Help me?'" repeated Rachel, astonished.  "I wasn't aware that you were here to 'help me.'  The last I checked, you were forcing food down my throat and shoving needles into my arm.  Samara was right; this _is worse than death."_

"There _is _no Samara, Rachel.  She is simply a figment of your imagination.  We've been over this.  Samara is your way of getting all blame off of yourself."

"Bullshit!" screamed Rachel.  "What was I doing just a few minutes ago?  Oh, right!  I was blaming myself for getting my ex-boyfriend killed, and letting Samara take my son!"

"Rachel, 'Samara' did not take your son.  You lost him after you ran off of the road in Illinois and fell unconscious.  I don't blame you for not remembering, seeing as how you were thrown into the back seat, obviously from not wearing your seatbelt."

"Is this how you treat all of your patients?!" shouted Rachel.  "Do you treat them all like some science project?  Everyone here is a person, not a lab rat!"

Dr. Murphy stood up, over sizing Rachel by almost a foot.  "Do not speak to me that way.  I think that it is time for your medicine."  He beckoned for Dr. Emerson to come inside with the needle.  

Dr. Emerson entered the room, carrying the needle behind his back.  Dr. Murphy grabbed Rachel by the arms and slammed her onto the bed.  "Now," he said, teeth gritted.  "This won't hurt a bit."  

Rachel struggled a bit, and Dr. Murphy placed his knee on her back, to keep her down.  Dr. Emerson kneeled beside her, and revealed the four-inch needle from his back.  

Rachel's eyes widened as the needle neared her arm.  As it pierced the skin, she screamed out in pain.  As the needle was slowly pulled out, a drip of blood slid down her arm . . .down to her elbow, where it hung over the ground, watching . . . waiting . . .

Dr. Murphy took his knee off of Rachel's back and stood upright, grinning wickedly.  Rachel relaxed and the two doctors left the room.  She lifted her head just in time to see Dr. Murphy, still smiling, wink at her, before he disappeared from sight. 

Rachel did not move.  Everything seemed to have stopped; time, life . . . everything.  The room was dead silent; Rachel's ears were ringing from the silence that had taken over everything.

The drop of blood fell from her arm and plummeted down to the floor.  As it hit the cold, steel floor, Rachel heard a faint _splish_.

The sound caused her heart to skip a beat as Samara's horrid face appeared in her mind.  'Is this what Samara went through?' Rachel thought, sitting up on the bed once again.  'Why didn't she just kill me?  Will she ever give me my son back?'  All of these thoughts ran through her mind about a thousand times, each with the same answer: "I don't know."  Rachel wanted desperately to know, but had a feeling that she never would.  She hid her face in her hands, not knowing what to do.

Some time passed before Rachel looked up.  She felt dizzy, sick.  She was not hungry, _that she knew for sure.  She rubbed at her temple, wondering, 'What _was _that medication they gave me?  I've never seen it before.'  The medication she usually took was to simply calm her down, because of her frequent 'panic attacks.'  _

Rachel felt nauseous; her stomach heaved in and out as she collapsed on the floor.  Her heart began to race . . . sweat appeared on her temple, sliding down her face and falling on the floor . . .

_Splish_. . . 

A chill was sent up her spine and she shuddered, hugging her abdomen tightly.  "Oh, God . . ." she whimpered as a shooting pain was sent throughout her stomach.  Tears of pain sprang into her eyes.  The pain was nearly unbearable; it was as though the injection needle was being pressed into her stomach over and over again.  

She gritted her teeth together as she slowly pulled up her pale-grey t-shirt that the psychiatric hospital had given her.  She fell immediately ill at the sight of her abdomen; it was horribly bruised around the spots where her old medication had been delivered.  She had never looked at the injection sites before.  

Rachel yanked her t-shirt down and let her eyes drift to her arm, where Dr. Emerson had injected the medication not five minutes ago; the spot was swollen and red.  She placed her index finger lightly over the red skin.  It stung so terribly that Rachel began to blow cool air on it.  

Rachel sat up and looked around the room.  Her vision was getting fuzzy and she felt lightheaded.  She laid down once again and let her eyelids slid shut . . .

Before she fell unconscious, Rachel's heart flew into her throat as she saw Samara and her own son standing above her.  Samara had a small smile on her face . . . and Aiden looked . . . dead.  

A single tear of sadness and wanting slid down Rachel's cheek . . .

_Splish_ . . .

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N-This chapter was sort of a Prologue.  Well, review!! 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't anything.  Sorry, now you can't sue me.  Ha ha!  Anyways . . .

A/N: I'm sorry that I haven't updated in so long.  I've been working on other stories, and I just couldn't think of anything for this story, but the writer's block has been broken!  Enjoy, and please review!!

**Chapter Two**

Rachel groaned; her head was throbbing, and her body felt so heavy that she could not sit upright to see where she was.  Her eyelids slowly slid open.  The first thing she saw as her eyes regained their clarity was a white ceiling.  She could feel that she was on a bed; the stiff springs in the mattress were stabbing into her back every time she breathed.

 Her strength slowly came back and she pushed herself upright.  Although her head was not throbbing as it had been, she could still feel a pulse pounding in the sides of her skull.  

Suddenly, all of the memories came flowing back to her.  The doctor, the needle . . . and, her heart skipped a beat as she remembered what had happened before she passed out . . . Samara, Aiden.  They had been there, watching her as she suffered through a moment Samara had forced her to experience.

But had it really happened, or had it all been simply a bad dream?  Rachel knew that she had not slept even for a moment since Aiden had been taken from her.  Maybe Dr. Emerson _hadn't drugged her.  Maybe Samara and Aiden _hadn't_ been there . . ._

But it had all seemed so real.  She had heard Aiden's raspy breathing as he stood above her; she had felt Dr. Murphy's steel-grip as he held her down.  And she was certain that the sharp pain she had felt when Dr. Emerson jabbed that needle into her arm was real.  

Rachel looked at her arm.  If there was a prick from a needle on her arm, then she would know that none of what she had seen had been a dream.  She held her breath, placed her right hand on the cream colored sleeve and pulled the sleeve up.    
Rachel winced as she saw a puffy, swollen hole on her arm, just above her elbow.  Feeling a wave of nausea, she yanked the sleeve back down.  

She looked up as the door to her room creaked open.  Dr. Murphy entered the room, carrying a tray of Rachel's lunch.  "Hello, Rachel," he said, cheerfully.  
Rachel stared back at him.  If he had really held her down as his colleague drugged her, then why was he acting so cheerful?  He set down the tray on the small nightstand next to Rachel's bed.  "Rachel, I have wonderful news," he began, walking over to her and sitting next to her on the bed.  "You have a visitor."

Rachel looked at him in disbelief.  "A-A visitor?" she repeated.  "Who?"

"Raven Morton," he replied.  "Come on, you can eat your lunch later," he added, taking a hold of Rachel's arm and pulling her up. 

Rachel bit her tongue to keep from crying aloud as Dr. Murphy put pressure onto her swollen elbow.  He led her out of her room and down the hall.  Rachel closed her eyes tightly as she walked through the hallway.  It looked exactly as the one she had been in when Samara had finally gotten Aiden . . . forever.

Dr. Murphy led Rachel to the visitation center, where Rachel finally opened her eyes again.  She sat down at a small rectangle table.  She looked up and was staring into the bright green eyes of a young girl, no older than twenty years old.  Her hair was red and straight, and her green eyes held a sadness that Rachel had seen in her sister during Katie's funeral.

"Rachel, this is Raven.  She came here to ask you some questions," explained Dr. Murphy.  "I'll be right outside if either of you need me."  He released Rachel's arm and opened the door and slipped outside.

Rachel looked at the young girl sitting in front of her.  "Hi," Rachel began, softly.  "How do you know me?"

"I saw you that day that you were found on the highway," Raven began, in a soft, kind, but tense voice.  "I heard you say something while they were taking you away."  She paused, looking down at the table.  "Samara," she whispered, returning her gaze to Rachel.  "The little girl."

Rachel stared at her, bewildered.  "How did you-?  Samara, how do you know about her?" she asked, shakily.

Raven chewed on her lip.  "A little over a week ago, my cousin who lives near here, alone, called me up one night and told me about this . . . video that she watched.  Apparently she rented it by mistake.  She sounded so scared, so I asked her about the tape . . . the only thing that she told me was the voice of a little girl . . . and she had a dream, and she heard the name 'Samara.'  I know that your niece was killed awhile ago, after watching such a video-"

"How do you know that?" interrupted Rachel.

"This guy told me about it . . . he used to go to school with her boyfriend, who apparently died the very same night, a week after _he watched the tape.  My cousin died a few days ago, a week after she called me; a week after she watched the tape."  Rachel stared at her, a confused look in her eye.  "All I want to know," continued Raven, "is what happened to you involving that little girl."_

Raven's eyes filled with tears.  "Please," she whispered.  "All I want is for her to never kill again.  I don't want anyone else to die like that . . ." She took a deep breath.  "I saw what happened to her.  At the funeral, I looked in the casket.  I just . . . can't let that happen to anyone else."

"Raven, she'll never stop.  It won't stop.  I'm sorry, but there's no way to end it."

"There _must_ be.  There is only one tape, right?  If we just . . . find it, then we can destroy it, and no one will ever die again."  She wiped her eyes with the back of her fist.  "It has to work, doesn't it?  I mean, no more tape, no more deaths."

Rachel shook her head.  "I don't know . . ."

"But you still haven't told me what happened to _you involving Samara."_

Rachel sighed as she began her story about her niece, to her dream, where Samara finally got Aiden.  Re-telling the same story repeatedly only succeeded in making her feel even worse about her 'missing son,' as the police so vaguely put it.  Missing, he wasn't missing.  He was everywhere . . . and if Rachel destroyed the tape, she would not only destroy Samara, but her own son as well, if destroying the tape would even work.

"Raven," said Rachel, after she finished her story.  "I'm sorry, but I don't think that I can help you.  First of all, we wouldn't know where to look-"

"Yes we do," protested Raven.  "My cousin was the last one killed, so it must be somewhere she went before she died."

"And second of all, we don't even know if destroying the tape will work.  We may only get ourselves killed."

"I don't care," said Raven, looking down at the table once again.  "As long as I tried, I won't care if I die, and if you die, well, at least you'll have been able to see your son one last time."

Rachel opened her mouth to object, but was struck with realization; Raven was right, she had to try, and if she _did_ die, at least she would have been able to see Aiden.  "But," she added, as another factor came through her mind, "what about _this_ place?  I mean, they have security everywhere, and Dr. Murphy barely leaves me alone.  How will I get out?"

Raven smiled a small, half smile.  "So, you're saying that if I get you out of here, you'll help me?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows, as though she was considering.  "Yes, that is what I'm saying."

Raven grinned, and Rachel saw the young girl's eyes light up in a completely different way then when she had first saw them, and she could not help but smile as well.  "So, how are you going to get me out?" she asked.

"Okay, here's the plan: first, I'll ask Dr. Murphy to lead me to the bathroom, but while he's taking me there, you can sneak out of the room.  After you get out of here, just _run until you reach the exit.  When you get out, wait for me in the bushes right outside of the parking lot."_

"_That's_ your plan?" asked Rachel. 

"It should work," said Raven, holding her hands up in defense.  "All you have to do is run, and run _fast_.  Don't stop for anything, no matter _what anyone says.  Can you do that?"_

 "Yeah, I can do it."

"Okay then," replied Raven, standing up.  

"But wait," said Rachel, quickly.  "That door locks when it closes," she said, glancing at the door.  

Raven wrinkled her nose as she thought fast.  "I know; I'll let Dr. Murphy lead, and then you can sneak over to the door and keep it open."  Rachel nodded in agreement.  "Ready?" asked Raven, excitement flowing in her voice.  Rachel nodded again, thinking about the outside world, and how long it had been since she had seen trees, the sun . . .

Raven knocked on the door, and Dr. Murphy opened it, allowing Raven to exit.  Rachel heard Raven quickly ask if he would lead her to the restroom.  Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Murphy agreed, and let go of the door. 

Rachel stood up quickly and raced towards the door.  She caught it just in time, and held it open as she heard Raven and Dr. Murphy's receding footsteps down the hall.  She waited until the footsteps completely disappeared before she burst from the room and raced down the hall.  

Rachel passed at least three doctors as she dashed towards the exit, all of whom asked her where she thought she was going.  She looked at a wall and saw a sign that read "Exit" with an arrow pointing to her left.  She turned a corner and ran towards the two glass doors.  She slammed into them and pushed them open.  

The secretary at the front yelled at her to stop, but Rachel pushed until the doors opened, and she was met with the fresh air.  The sunlight poured onto her face, and Rachel felt as though she had just seen the world for the first time.  She heard commotion from inside the hospital and ran quickly into the bushes, as Raven had instructed her to.

She sat beneath the green leaves and brown branches, listening to Dr. Murphy's angry voice as he yelled at his colleagues to "find her as fast as possible."  Rachel did not move at all until she heard Raven's voice call out to her.  "Rachel, are you here?"

"Yes," replied Rachel, crawling out from under the bush where she had been hiding.  She stood up to face Raven; Raven was easily a head taller than her.  "Where's your car?" Rachel asked, glancing at the parking lot.  

"Come with me," instructed Raven, beckoning for Rachel to follow her.  She led Rachel to a dark blue pickup truck.  She and Rachel climbed into the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.  

Rachel looked out of the window, at all of the sights she had been hidden from for about a month; the streets, the stores, the people, she had missed them all.

"Rachel, is it okay if you stay with me in my apartment?" asked Raven.  

"Where else will I stay?" asked Rachel.  As they drove in utter silence, Rachel thought about her last statement.  _Where else will I stay?  She was hit with the realization that she no longer had her own life; she was merely a figure that no one remembered, or if they_ did_ remember her, they assumed her to be insane.  She laid her head against the window.  'If this is ever over,' she thought.  'What will happen to me?  Where will I go?  Who will want me?'_

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N: I know, short, but I ran out of ideas for this chapter.  As always, review!!! 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Ring." The only parts I do own are: the plot and the character Raven.

A/N: OMG, you guys! I haven't updated in FOREVER! "Sorry" doesn't even BEGIN to describe how I feel! Forgive me? I hope you do, because I appreciate all of you who read and enjoy my stories. Okay, I'll stop now, but please don't forget to review! Thanks all!

Chapter Three

"Rachel."

The word came to her only as a quiet whisper, but she could tell that whoever had said her name had shouted it. He, or she (or "it," for that matter), was simply at such a great distance that she could barely hear their voice.

"What?" she called back, her own voice sounding as a mere whisper as well, although the horrid strain and burning of her throat told her that she had not whispered the word. On the contrary, she had screamed it.

"What is it?" she screamed again, her throat exploding with heat at each of the three simple words. But why was her voice so quiet in her own ears?

"Rachel," whoever-it-was hissed again. The word sounded so soft and gentle that it could have simply been the wind, but no; there it was again: "Rachel."

Rachel took a step forward, out of the darkness that she had been surrounded by, and found herself in a lonely, gray alleyway. Her eyes danced wildly around the alley, hoping to find some trace, some clue, as to where the person (or thing) that had called her name could possibly be.

She took another step, placing her foot down ever so gently, as though she was afraid that if she put her foot down to quickly, the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

She ran a hand through her greasy, stringy blond hair and called, "Hello?" into the seemingly empty alleyway. "Is someone . . . anyone there?" she added, trying desperately to ignore the straining in her throat.

Her only reply was a long, dead silence; a silence that caused her ears to ring. She shook her head slowly in an attempt to rid herself of the ringing.

Rachel opened her mouth to call out again, when a sudden _hisssssss_, like air being let out of a tire, cut her off.

She took a few steps backwards, wanting to be enveloped by the safety of the darkness once again, but was unable to. Her back hit something hard and solid: a brick wall.

Letting out a short, awkward grunt, Rachel began to walk forward again, subconsciously knowing that the darkness, her sanctuary, would not come and save her again, as it had before. The darkness would not be able to protect her from the evil of the outside world any longer. Her heart began to race. _Why did I ever leave that goddamn place?_ she asked herself. _I was safe there. I was safe . . ._

As she began to walk towards the opposite end of the alleyway (although she did not truly know why-the opposite end looked like a dead end to her. With an emphasis on "dead"), Rachel placed her hand against the gray brick wall, leaning against it for support.

As she began to reach the other end of the alleyway, Rachel saw that it was not a dead end, as she had assumed, but rather a corner. With her hand still upon the wall, Rachel rounded the corner . . . and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Aiden?" she croaked, hoping the word had come out louder than it had sounded in her own ears.

Aiden was standing in the middle of the adjoining alleyway, his brown hair in a ratty mess. His eyes were a deep, dark shade of brown, nearly a shade of black, and they were outlined in a blood red color. Hi skin was a sickening shade of green, and, although his hands were hanging limply at his sides, Rachel could see that his fingernails, or the few he had left, at least, were black and tattered. Dry blood covered his cheeks and forehead, and his clothes were stained a disgusting shade of brown.

He looked nothing like his former self. He looked . . . evil. Even so, Rachel could see that this little boy was indeed _her_ little boy. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"A-Aiden," she choked out, reaching out to the little boy with outstretched arms. "Aiden," she said again, walking clumsily towards him. She looked into his red-rimmed eyes that were so filled with hate and disgust, and felt her knees buckle; she collapsed in a sobbing heap at Aiden's feet.

"Rachel," he said, looking down at the shaking mass in front of him.

Rachel lifted her head, tears streaking down her face, and nodded. "Yes. Yes, baby, I'm here." She lifted her hand in a weak attempt to caress her former son's face when, in one quick, swift motion, Aiden grabbed her by the wrist.

A burning sensation began to form where he had grabbed her. Rachel, in response, let out a loud, hiccuping sob. "Why, baby?" she cried, looking up in dismay at the little boy who was digging his fingers into her wrist, hate and anger shining clearly in his eyes. "Why, why?!"

"You killed me," Aiden replied, in a monotone-like voice, his fire-like grip on Rachel's wrist tightening. "You killed me."

Rachel slowly shook her head. "No. No, I didn't-"

"Don't lie, Rachel." Aiden cocked his head slightly, as though out of pity for the hysterical woman crying in front of him, but did not release his mother from his grip. "You let the little girl have me. You didn't try hard enough to save me. You _never_ tried hard enough. You never have."

"Aiden!" Rachel screamed, her voice returning to its full volume. She began to writhe and twist in anguish, not because of the burning pain in her wrist, but because of the sheer pain of Aiden's words . . . and because of the fact that she knew he was right.

"I was a mistake. That's what you told yourself every day until I was born, and then you never said it . . . but you thought it. I never should have been born. And now I'm dead. Because of _you_."

Rachel tried to choke out words, but they came out only as sobs and screams. Her words echoed in her head, from when she had been pregnant with Aiden: _"I hate you! Why ME?! You goddamn THING! I never should have . . . this shouldn't have HAPPENED!!!"_

All of the words she had said, all of the suicidal thoughts . . . Aiden knew about them now. Now that he was with _her_. Samara. She showed him what she had said . . . all of the times she had thought about abortion. All of the times she had stood out on her balcony and thought, _"All I have to do is jump, and it'll all be over. All of it."_ But why? Why, why, WHY????

Aiden released Rachel from his grip. Rachel rubbed at the burn with her opposite hand, hoping to slow down the pain. "You never wanted me. And now you don't have me. So why are you looking for me?"

Rachel shook her head. "I-I . . . I love you, Aiden. I do. I was just-"

"-young," Aiden finished. "You told me that story. And I don't care anymore. Don't look for me, Rachel. Don't look for the tape. She'll find you. She'll kill you. And you can't stop her."

Rachel looked at her son, her heart weighing heavy in her chest. It almost seemed that Aiden _did_ still love her. Rachel closed her eyes and rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand. When she opened her eyes again, Aiden had disappeared. "Aiden?" she called, getting up onto her feet and continuing down the alleyway.

"Aiden!" she called, breaking into a slow jog. A tickling sensation in her arm slowed her down a bit, but she merely brushed it away, not thinking twice about it. The tickling began to appear in her arm again. She stopped jogging and looked at her arm. There was a spider crawling down her arm and stopping and getting ready to sink its teeth into her and bite and bite and bite.

Rachel let out a small shriek and brushed the spider away. But the tickling sensation began to appear on her arms and legs and neck and face and everywhere, oh, God, it was _everywhere_! And they were biting and biting and poisoning her and she was going to die, she could feel it, she was going to die because of all of the bites . . .

She collapsed to her knees, her hands running all over her body, rubbing and scratching and attacking everything that felt like a spider and they had to die, she had to kill them before they killed her . . .

She opened her eyes again. Her heart was racing terribly and her breathing was coming out in short, gasping breaths. She looked at her arms; there were no bite marks, or any sign that there had been anything on her, but she had scratched so terribly at her arms that some of the skin had been ripped off.

Rachel stood up again, wrapping her arms around her torso in an attempt to find some protection from whatever was out there. From whatever wanted to kill her. With a heavy sigh, she did all she could do: continue walking down the alleyway.

She glanced sideways at the gray, gray walls that were on either side of her. _How did you get here?_ a voice inside her asked. What a great question. How _did_ she get here? The last thing she could remember was . . . escaping the mental hospital. With that girl. Raven. But how did she get onto the street? And what the hell was going on, for that matter?

She looked straight up, at what she thought would be the sky . . . and froze in her tracks. The sky appeared to be frozen, if that was the right adjective to describe it. The sky was perfectly black, the dark clouds unmoving in the image. But what caught Rachel's eye was the bright, shining bolt of lightning that was stretching across the sky like a reaching arm.

Rachel stared at the unmoving bolt of lightning for who knows how long before something wet and cool landed on her upper arm and slowly crawled down her arm towards her elbow. She looked down and grimaced at the drop of red blood that was rolling down her arm. With her opposite hand, she wiped the droplet away and wiped the remains on the leg of her pants.

_Plink_. Another drop of the crimson blood landed on the ground next to her. And then another. And another. She looked back up at the sky and saw a downpour of red blood-rain coming down towards her. A drop landed on her shoulder, her neck, the top of her head, and continued to cover her until her clothes were soaking and dripping with the red, sticky blood-rain.

Rachel squirmed, trying to wipe the blood off of her face. It streamed into her eyes, causing Rachel to begin to scream out in pain as the blood began to burn. Her hands flew to her eyes, rubbing in a feeble attempt to rid herself of the burning pain. "_Aiden! Help me! Someone-dear God-help me!"_

_"Rachel."_ Rachel's ears perked up at the sound of her name. "Hello?" she called, stooping over slightly to block the rain from dropping into her eyes.

_"Rachel?"_ the voice said again, in the form of a question this time. _"Rachel . . ."_

"Yes? Yes! I'm here!" Rachel screamed in reply, running a hand through her now-crimson colored hair. "_Help me!"_ she added, as more blood-rain ran into her eyes. Was she crazy, or did she actually hear a sizzling sound as the blood had entered her eyes?

_"Rachel?"_

* * *

"Rachel!" Raven yelled again, grabbing Rachel by the shoulder and shaking her rapidly, but gently. "Rachel, wake up, dammit!" she said, beginning to shake Rachel's shoulders harder.

"Hel . . . p, wha-?" Rachel muttered, shaking her head back and forth. "Huh?!" she said, her eyes snapping open. "Wha- . . . what happened? Where am I?" she asked, immediately recognizing Raven, but not the scenery around her. She assumed that it was Raven's house, although she could not be sure.

"This is my apartment. Are you okay?" Raven asked, and Rachel felt like smiling at the sound of concern in Raven's voice. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. But it was . . . more than that, you know. It wasn't just that I could see what was happening, and hear it, but I could . . . _feel_ it, too. I could feel everything. Exactly as it was happening. Even every time I put my foot down to walk, I could feel it. Like it was really happening, you know what I mean?" Raven nodded, and the look in her eyes silently asked Rachel to continue. "And then, in my dream-nightmare-when it started to rain (not rain, but blood), I could feel it. And that's why I never slept at the hospital. That's why they had to drug me. Because my dreams are more than dreams. They're . . . some kind of alternate universe, if you can believe that."

"I can believe it," Raven said, giving Rachel a sad, faraway smile that said, quite perfectly, _I understand more than you could ever imagine._ Rachel wanted to ask Raven how she could possibly understand, but did not want to ask about anything that could upset her new aquaintence.

"But in this dream-nightmare, I mean-I saw my son. I mean, I _usually_ see my son in my nightmares, but this time, there was something different. Something that I haven't seen in . . . forever." Rachel paused, thinking back to when Aiden had given her that warning, when he had given her that _look_. That look that told her that he _did_ still love her. Deep, deep down. "He gave me this look, and I could see, in his eyes that . . . that he cared about what happened to me, even though I couldn't save him. That he still . . ." Rachel's eyes began to fill with tears. ". . . that he still . . . loved me," she finished, her voice hitching on the last part of her sentence.

Raven sighed deeply. "Wow. That's . . . intense, if that's the right word."

"It _is_ intense. _Very_ intense," Rachel agreed, wiping her eyes with the back of a clenched fist. "But the question is, what am I going to do now that I'm . . . out? Especially since the doctors are going to be looking for me?"

Raven smiled. Not the sad smile she usually smiled, but a smile that said that she had a plan. "Don't worry, I've got that _all_ figured out."

Rachel smiled back at her. "Really? Tell me."

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N-Yay! I got the new chapter up! And many thanks to Diva'sDream for keeping me in line with this story! Thanks girl! :-) I'll get chapter four up ASAP!


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